A Different Perspective
by Fiendfyres
Summary: Lily finds out that not everybody viewed Snape's Worst Memory through the same perspective as she did. Implied L/J, one-shot.


Just like it says in the summary. My take on what happened right after SWM, from Lily's POV. Hope you like it and please don't forget to leave a review! :)

Disclaimer: All characters, terms and settings are the copyrighted content of J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them to play around, and don't intend to profit from this work in any way.

* * *

A Different Perspective

By CascadingCrimson

"Lily! Lily, wait up!"

The corridor was a swirl of colours, the fresh, warm summer air shimmering as though in a heat haze. The stone floor seemed strangely unsteady against the spill of sunny shades on it, and Lily stopped. She resisted an urge to groan as she heard someone come up from behind her, calling out her name again.

A pair of hands caught hold of her arms and turned her around. Lily came face to face with Mary McDonald, a fellow Gryffindor who was a year above her, peering at her with an inscrutable look in her eyes. Her school robes were ruffled and her flyaway blonde hair was sticking up even more than usual.

"Are you – I mean, I saw what happened back there – are you all right?" Mary asked her, her voice low. There was a slight awkwardness to her voice that made the question seem out of place, which Lily felt was justified as they weren't exactly what you called close.

"I'm fine," Lily said shortly, shifting her gaze from the blurred form of her friend to the swirling ground. "I have to go study – Transfiguration OWL tomorrow -"

Mary didn't relent her grip on Lily's arms. "You're not alright," she said matter-of-factly, her voice slightly crisp, "If you were, why would you be crying?"

"I'm _not_ crying!" Lily wiped angrily at her eyes, half-startled to find wetness on her hands. At least the strangely churning appearance of everything around made sense, she thought with a grim sort of responsiveness.

Mary was still looking at her peculiarly. "C'mon," she muttered suddenly, tugging on their interlocked arms, and Lily protested.

"Wait, Mary – I have to go study, I have my exam tomorrow!"

She wasn't sure why she was hesitating so much, but the thought of going over with Mary about what happened was almost unbearable. She wanted to do nothing more than curl up under her four poster in the girls dormitory, hoping to fall asleep and wake up to find that everything had been a bad dream. Talking about it to Mary seemed irrevocably daunting, as she was one person who did not stop to smooth over her words. Being blunt and to the point had always been a odd feature to her side of the conversation.

Mary paid no attention to her words. "This won't take long," she said, dragging Lily over to the left wall and pulling open the nearest door.

Lily stared. "A broom closet?"

But Mary didn't answer. She shuffled Lily inside, ignoring her half-formed protests about how she would fail her OWLs if she didn't study, and shut the door behind them. The tiny, dingy room was swathed in darkness, and Lily felt her way to one corner, perching down on one of the upturned buckets.

"Mary?"

A brilliant flash of light illuminated the space suddenly, and Lily blinked. Mary was conjuring candles that floated somewhere above them, casting a dim orange glow in the small area. Her grey eyes were glinting in the dim light as she pushed her wand back into her robes and looked at Lily.

"So, will you tell me what's wrong?"

The candlelight was flickering, and Mary's face was awash with reddish orange hues emanating from above them. It cast the lower part of her face in shadow, but the upper half was shimmering, as though she was flushed slightly. If it hadn't been for her steady gaze, Lily would have almost thought she was blushing in embarrassment. But this wasn't what had caught her eye.

Her gaze lingered over the length of the scar that tainted the right side of her face, extending from her right temple to the bottom of her chin. She felt as though her stomach plunged downwards, and suppressed the nausea that was rising inside of her. It had been Mulciber from Slytherin who had cursed her, she knew, a piece of Dark Magic that even Madam Pomfrey couldn't revert completely. And Severus, her best friend, was a part of the group; he had watched plainly, considering it a joke…

"Lily?"

Her vision was blurring again, but Lily did not attempt hiding her tears this time. She felt Mary take her hand, and she felt like a dam burst.

"Why is he with them, Mary?" she said, her voice sounding so much like a sob, "I've tried so much! I've tried to show him that it's wrong, that he shouldn't be with them – but, he doesn't listen! Just for fun, he says! And now look, he called me a mudblood, when I thought – I thought he considered m-me as his b-best friend!"

Her breath was constricting, and her insides were writhing with mortification as she realised she was blubbering, but somehow she just couldn't stop.

"Look at where they're headed! Th-they're all going to join You-Know-Who, and S-Sev is right with them! I don't think he cares anymore, I think he's going to become a D-Death Eater too, I don't understand why he would do it!"

It took her a while to regain her grip on her emotions, but Mary sat all the way through, holding her hand firmly in her own. For Lily, the transition was abrupt and immediate. As her sobs subsided and tears dried up, she felt nothing but cold, hard anger inside her, and once she had caught up with her breath and wiped the last of her tears away, she felt slightly better.

"I've given him enough chances," she said, eyes cast downwards as she made up her mind. "I've had enough. If he doesn't decide to leave them now, he won't ever do it. I can't do this anymore."

Opposite her, Mary was quiet, and Lily was grateful. She felt somewhat ashamed of her outburst; she usually managed to keep her composure at worse times. She turned her face away and made sure her face was dry, before looking up to meet her friend's eyes.

"I'm sorry - I know I lost it just now -" Lily started to speak, but Mary cut her off.

"Are you sure that's all that's bothering you?" Mary said, without missing a beat.

Lily stared at her. "Of – Of course. What makes you think -?"

"So this has got nothing to do with James Potter?"

She felt her temper flare at the mention of the name, and she turned her head to the side. "No," she said, glaring at the broom that stood at an angle to the wall, "Why would it?"

"Oh c'mon, Lily. You just had a huge spat with him back there -"

"And I was completely justified in initiating it! Didn't you see what he was doing to Sev there? He's a pigheaded, arrogant toe ra -"

"_Yes_, I heard all that. You don't think Sirius Black is just as bad?"

"Of course I do! He's just as horrible as Potter! I bet he got the idea in the first place!"

"Is that why you were ignoring him and directing all your insults at James then?"

"I -" Lily stopped and stared at Mary. Her expression was stoic and impassive, but her eyes were twinkling slightly, as though she was trying to hide a smile.

The closely confined space, which Lily had been okay with all this time, seemed suffocatingly smothering now. She tried to stand up, kicking a bucket aside as she said frigidly, "I don't know what you're talking about. And if you'll excuse me now, I have to go study -"

But Mary had caught hold of her arm again, saying, "Lily, sit down. I have to tell you a few things before you leave."

"I don't -" But Mary was tugging insistently at her arm again, and Lily gave in.

"_Fine_," Lily said as she sat down again, a little more harshly than she'd intended, "What do you want to say?"

"Okay, but you have to listen to me first before making any assumptions," Mary said, and her voice sounded light yet serious. "I mean it, Lily. I don't want any interruptions while I say what I want to say, okay?"

Lily pursed her lips and watched her, curiosity mingled with the caution she felt was necessary in this situation. Mary wasn't one to not speak her mind…

"You have to understand how it appeared to me, to probably the rest of us. It was like you were totally engrossed in your own world with James, with your banter and bickering – you didn't even stop to look at Snape or even Sirius -"

"That's not - what are you implying?" Lily interruped, watching her friend closely.

"I think you like James Potter."

"_What?"_

She stopped at the warning glance that Mary cast her way.

"And I thought it was pretty obvious back there. You were, for one, completely ignoring Sirius -"

"But _Potter_ -"

"And the way you were talking to him, it was as though you'd been watching him from afar –"

"What _are_ you talking about -"

"About how he messes up his hair and plays with the snitch -"

"But he does that _all_ the time!"

"Nobody else must have taken so much notice of it -"

"He keeps showing off, how could I _not_ -"

"And you were completely focused on him, so much that you weren't even paying attention to Sna – Severus."

"What? Of course I was -"

"Lily." Mary's voice was firm, eyes determined. "Do you really hate him?"

The small closet had become stiflingly warm now, and Lily had to repress an urge to blast the doors open and run out into the fresh, breezy air. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She _didn't_ like James Potter; sure, she thought he was fairly good-looking and had felt flashes of attraction towards him, but that was purely physical – it didn't matter, his head was so impossibly inflated she couldn't stand it…

"I don't – I don't hate him," Lily said hesitatingly, "I just – detest every fibre of his being right now. He's so cocky and arrogant."

Mary sighed. "I know, but it doesn't help what you feel, does it?"

Lily was silent; she didn't think she could say anything that would convince Mary otherwise. But she couldn't be right; Lily would've known, right? How could anyone understand her feelings and motivations better than herself?

"Mary," Lily started, "I don't think you have any idea -"

But Mary had leaned forwards, and her scar seemed more prominent than ever. Her bright, grey eyes seemed to be oddly protuberant in the hazy orange glow around them, but they spoke volumes about her conviction.

"Sometimes," she said slowly, "it doesn't matter who was in the right or wrong, or who had taken the first step to remedy that. If there's one thing I've learnt about life, Lily, it's that nothing ever remains constant, or static to the point of complacency. It's not fair to assume that about life, or people, or circumstances -"

"But I know that," Lily objected, feeling slightly light-headed as she realised where this was heading, "I know all that…"

"And sometimes," Mary continued, "It's better to accept what's inside yourself instead of trying to refute it. Because ultimately, it's your instincts that you can follow in the heat of the moment. At that time, nothing, not even your beliefs or convictions or preformed notions, can help you fight your own monsters, your innermost faults, your worst fears. And then, if you don't reach and grasp what is rightfully yours, you might end up losing yourself. No self declaration is worth it, Lily. Think about it."

And with that, she opened the door of the room, snuffing out the candles and vanishing them as she left, leaving Lily there in the dark, alone with her very confused thoughts.

* * *

The day was cold, the sky a miserable, dark grey. A sharp, chilling wind blew around the open area, lapels of winter coats flapping and trees swaying dangerously in its wake. Little drops of rain splayed all over the darkly dressed gathering around a small, long-length box, casting a morose impression of grief that seemed in a strange harmony with the air that hung upon the crowd. The only sound that could be heard was the tuned whistling of the unrelenting gusts of wind, strong as though it was echoing off a far off mountain, punctured occasionally by sobs and cries of utter pain and anguish.

Lily's hands were freezing, but she didn't care. She caught a flash of scruffy blonde hair as they laid the coffin in the deep pit, a flag hovering above them, fluttering softly despite the harsh wind, the flag that stood as a symbol of honour towards those warriors who had lost their lives in the fight against Lord Voldemort. She watched numbly as they placed flowers and delivered speeches. It didn't matter to her, she didn't listen. She couldn't, not when it sounded so faint, faltering like a badly tuned radio…

A warm hand clasped her cold one, and she turned to find James looking at her, his eyes exuding his own sense of loss. His touch grounded her, brought her back to reality, and suddenly everything sounded too loud for comfort. He was trying to be strong for her, she realised, he wanted to show that he was there for her.

She buried his face in the nook of his shoulder blades, shivering as he wrapped his arms around her, clutching her tightly as his warmth seeped into her, comforting her, reassuring her that she was there and they were together and that everything would be all right.

_You were right_, she thought, muffling her tears in his coat, _you were right…_

Fin.

* * *


End file.
